It’s raining in Boston…

Outside of a small, but cozy flat in a comfortable section in Boston, a heavily weighted and bedraggled figure drags himself up to the door and rings the bell with the only free apendage he has, his nose.
The man that answers the door resembles the man at the door, and no surprise, because they’re brothers. However, the one on the nastier side of said door looks a little worse for wear, with the rain coming down in sheets off of his thin green raincoat, nearly saturated duffle bag, and worn-thin Chicago Cubs baseball cap. The eyes that peek out from under the hat are the same curious and intelligent blue as the eyes he looks into. He brushes a soggy, wayward hair out of his vision and smiles. His teeth are a bit mismatched compared to his brother’s, but both share a quality of natural clarity.
“Thanks, bro.” The soggy one says, sighing and smiling as he stumbles into the doorway. His brother, clad in a smart sweater to guard against the late September chill, helps take the bag and sort out the now nearly ruined contents. The soggy brother unslings a dilapidated yellow backpack and sets it next to the doorway, followed soon by a muddy and battered pair of Chuck Taylor’s. As the soggy brother makes his way into the warm and comforting flat, it becomes known that he was not staggering under his bags (which are piteously light for being all that he owns) but because of a strange limp in his right leg. He stumps his way into the flat, leaving soggy sockprints on the polished tile floor on the way to the bathroom, taking great care not to sway one way or another with his limp, as some mud or rainwater may splash and damage some of the worn, but loved, cherry furnishings or the thin, but still comfortable carpet.
Oddly, very little dialogue is exchanged between the two brothers, either for lack of energy on the soggy one’s part or due to the quick need for dry and clean clothes. Within the span of forty five minutes the soggy brother emerges, no longer soggy. Shaven, cleaned, and in a worn thin, but beloved Flogging Molly t-shirt and a pair of holey shorts, all of this which seemed quite unfit for the weather.
The newly refreshed brother again offered up his thanks. “Thanks, really.”
The other headed over to the kitchenette, “no problem, Spud. What kind of brother would I be to refuse you?” He asked with a smile as he started setting out a cold impromptu late dinner
“A successful brother who doesn’t need his lazy, wishy-washy, but still rougishly charming brother hassling him in his nice apartment” Spud beamed back as he sat at the table. He looked around sheepishly and finally asked, “So where’s Terra, Danny?”
Danny smiled as he cracked open two Cokes. “Oh, she’s still out at work. She’ll be back around ten or so.”
Spud took the Coke and had a drink. It was the first soda he had drank in quite some time. After his first drink, he could take it. Maybe it was the bubbles from the Coke, or maybe it was something else.
“Jesus, I’m sorry Dan. I didn’t wanna do this, you know. I didn’t wanna lose all my money and not be able to get a job because of my…problem… and then have to come bothering you, and your wife, in your nice little comfortable suburban house life thingy you got here…but you were all I had. Jack’s got his own family and problems, and Mom and Dad could never afford to take on another, not with how times are…and Sue, she’s barely outta college, she’s got enough to worry about…God I’m sorry. I feel like I’m coming in outta nowhere and totally fucking up your life, which I hate, but it was either this or the park bench and the park bench was taken tonight. I won’t be here long, Dan, I swear. I…I just feel awful about completely butting in on your life like this and…”
Dan had heard enough. “Listen, kid brother. You and I weren’t always the closest, and we didn’t always see eye to eye, but God damn it you’re my brother and there’s no way I’d turn you away. Terra and I will deal, it won’t be a problem. Don’t worry, you take as much time as you need. Don’t worry about it, all right kid? You’re not fucking up anything…you’re family.”
Spud wiped his tears away. “Thanks, brother.”
Dan ruffled his kid brother’s neatly parted hair, “no thanks needed.”
So they had their dinner of Cokes and cold turkey sandwiches. Later, Terra came home and hugged her brother in law, and enjoyed a Coke herself. As the cold September rain pounded the windowpanes, they all sat back, talked about life back in the good times, and listened to Nirvana’s Unplugged album late into the night.
Spud laid his head down into a converted sofa in the spare room, full of food and drink for the first time in a while, warm and comfortable. His last thought before slipping off into unconsciousness was a twinge of regret, of sadness, of a life lost, which mimicked the pain in his right foot.
The damn thing always acted up when it was raining.
And it was raining in Boston.

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